


Ships In The Night

by phandomoftheowl



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa, Star Plus Mahabharat, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Reincarnation, Temporary Aromantic Draupadi, Temporary Trans Draupadi, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomoftheowl/pseuds/phandomoftheowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Wherever she goes, whoever she is, she blazes a trail of destruction in her wake.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draupadi and Karna are reincarnated multiple times since that very first lifetime, and they never seem to find each other. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ships In The Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sairandhri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairandhri/gifts).



> Title taken from Mat Kearney's song of the same name.

_Then_

Many lives pass between the first and this one. Sometimes she is the daughter of a merchant; sometimes a bandit; sometimes a she is a warrior, killing and maiming. That last one is most common, and she fears she will never escape her fate. No matter what she does, what choices she makes, they always lead her down a path that kills hundreds. Perhaps the gods mock her, laugh at the woman who thinks she can break free of this heinous destiny. 

Wherever she goes, whoever she is, she blazes a trail of destruction in her wake. 

If she’s lucky, she will manage to get away with killing only one person in some lifetimes. If she is unlucky -- as Fate has taught her she often is -- she will eviscerate everyone who stands near her. Scorch them with that infernal fire that follows her constantly. 

In those lucky lifetimes, she sees him: her ray of sunshine. He is always golden, always beautiful, and always beyond her grasp. Though, it is through no fault of his. _She_ is the one who is scared. The one who does not want to bring him into her circle of ruin. He is too pure to sully in such a manner. 

In dreams, she lets them be together. In dreams, they have been together in not only this life, but the last one, and the one before that, and the one that comes next. A hundred thousand lives and a hundred thousand thems, together and happy.

The year is 1307 BC and she is Helen of Sparta, of Troy, of nowhere. It should not surprise her that once agai, her folly has laid waste to countless innocents, but as she looks over the ramparts of Paris’ castle, her heart crumbles. _Love_ , she thinks, _should not be this difficult_.

That is when she sees him, wearing Grecian armour. He is not one of the famous ones this time. Not the ones that will be written and sung about. No, he is just an ordinary foot soldier, but to her there is nothing ordinary about him. Everything shrinks away in that moment. Paris, Troy, Menelaus. Those names are meaningless to her when he is there shining golden as ever. She digs her fingers into her palm to resist calling out to him. It will be futile, as he has never known her the way her soul is always aware of him. Always longing for him.

Maybe, a small part of her thinks, maybe he will live if he is just a common foot soldier. 

But it’s always the common ones that die first. The great ones stay immortal. 

She turns away from the edge. She never does find out what happens to him in Troy. For the best, she tells herself. (After all, what's one more lie?)

Of all her births and deaths, there is only one she can look back on and say she was happy. 

Humanity is on the brink of a new era. Paris in the 1920s is a magical place and Fate makes her a part of the Lost Generation. She is born into a man’s body, but her soul has always been a woman so she sheds the bonds society places on her and goes about freely as a woman. She has a simple life as a poor, struggling painter. It’s a beautiful life. There isn’t much she wants for. Food, decent clothing, a - quite leaky - roof over her head. Love is not for her in this lifetime. There is pleasure of the flesh and she makes do with that. It is the only time she lets herself be with him, because she knows not whether she will get another chance again.

He comes to her door, feet shuffling awkwardly, with his collar turned up and eyes darting around frantically. The familiar brilliant aura surrounds him, he looks so out of place in her filthy apartment building.

“Yes, love?” she drawls in her low, hoarse voice. Cigars are another lovely invention of humankind. 

“Um. I was told...that you.” A beautiful red washes over him. She wants to touch that skin, wants to make it hers for the night. _Patience_ , she chides herself and smiles coyly, waiting for him to find his words. A flash of annoyance passes over his face, and he pushes his shoulders back. Strong, like a soldier. Always a soldier. “How much for one night?” he grits out, looking at a point over her shoulder.

“For you, doll, nothing.” She hauls him in by his collar, holding firm as he stumbles forward. His fleeting moment of confidence is gone, replaced by a look of terror. _Such a skittish colt_ , she thinks. “Shh, I’ll take care of you. You want this, don’t you?” She slides the coat off him, and then his tie and belt. At his tense nod, she leans forward and captures his lips in a searing kiss. Normally, she wouldn't do this with a client, but he is no ordinary client. 

He is her ray of sun in this filthy world. 

He reacts just as she hoped, lurching uncertainly as they part, and he grabs at her, eyes dark with arousal. “Please,” he begs, and oh what a beautiful sound that is. More precious to her than any jazz. 

“Yeah, love. Go on the bed and I’ll take care of you,” she whispers, pushing him toward her bed.

The next morning, he is gone, the only proof of their time spent together is in the soreness of her muscles and the wad of cash on her bedside table.

In that lifetime, the only life she takes is her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter names taken from songs of the same name. 
> 
> There is no exact date for the Fall of Troy, so I picked a random date that falls somewhere between dates scholars have speculated.


End file.
